


berlin black silk

by ceraunos



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crossdressing, Hook-Up, M/M, Roleplay, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 13:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceraunos/pseuds/ceraunos
Summary: Berlin, 1929.Through the haze of smoke, yellow lights and skin, Aziraphale watches the way black silk falls over a slowly swaying hip and swallows. His fingers twitch, just a little, and he presses them into the crease between his knees, squeezing tightly.~what if crowley and aziraphale occasionally met as strangers and never said anything about it even though they both know





	berlin black silk

**Author's Note:**

> mini fic inspired by [this](https://yumbles.tumblr.com/post/185966375578/crowley-and-aziraphale-run-into-each-other-in) beautiful art. originally posted on [my tumblr](https://ceraunos.tumblr.com/post/185987103948/crowley-aziraphale-in-1929-berlin-based-on-this).
> 
> EDIT: Podfic now available [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244721).

Through the haze of smoke, yellow lights and skin, Aziraphale watches the way black silk falls over a slowly swaying hip and swallows. His fingers twitch, just a little, and he presses them into the crease between his knees, squeezing tightly.

He shouldn’t be here; in the country, generally, but more specifically in this sprawling maze of underground rooms full of perfume and tobacco, mingling together in whiskey and waxy red lipstick. He shouldn’t be here, except there had been a little white card left mysteriously on his hotel dressing table and he hadn’t had anything else to do tonight. (He hasn’t let himself think about it yet, but he knows the card didn’t just miracle itself into existence without volition.)

Black silk takes a drag on a long slim cigarette and ignores the way the singer – a woman with a voice like corked vermouth, dry and sensual in a way that drips off the glass she’s holding – runs a long finger down their arm and plucks the cigarette away for herself. Aziraphale reaches for his own glass and finds it empty.

The bartender smiles with the kind of smile that says professional boundaries don’t exist here (or that perhaps that it’s _all_ part of the job) and Aziraphale tips him an extra note as well as a piece of paper some other young man had written his address on earlier. At his back he feels a pair of eyes hidden underneath a thin veil flicking to and from him. He orders a second drink.

Her hair is crimson, pinned in tight, neat curls, and when she moves Aziraphale’s tongue goes dry at how familiar the lilt of her body is. She takes the drink without a word. Aziraphale waits, listens as the singer moves onto a slow, sombre song that spins the whole world leisurely on the tip of her tongue. Outside the sun begins to rise, the first pale grey slivers cutting over Berlin.

Black silk falls over a slowly swaying hip.

Aziraphale waits, two fingers brush, almost accidentally, at his waist and he shudders. They nudge at the inside of his wrist, cool against his pulse point, and he takes his cue, lets his arm drape over silk, pulling in involuntarily, just a little.

‘Angel,’ she murmurs, so close Aziraphale can feel the breath against his own lips. ‘ _Angel_.’

Aziraphale closes his eyes and waits for Berlin to wake.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [berlin black silk [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244721) by [ceraunos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceraunos/pseuds/ceraunos)




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